


These Funny Things We Cannot Explain

by Dana



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gavin is not a complete asshole, Guess I could also tag for feels reveal lol, Kind of pre-relationship kind of not, Like someone gets shot but it's not super gory or anything, M/M, Pre-Relationship, RK900 is known as Richard, Small amounts of violence, it's more about character interactions and kisses and softness, might write a sequel?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 16:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17328395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dana/pseuds/Dana
Summary: And the thing is, he can't even blame any of this on Gavin.  Might have, in their early days, when they bitched and sniped at each other incessantly, both of them wrong because neither was willing to admit that the other might beright.  But the statistics had been gathered, the results were in, Gavin did actually sometimes know what he was doing.  Most of the time, actually, and if Richard happened to be in a good enough mood, he wasn't even adverse to letting his partner know where he stood.That it happened more and more often, of late, well, Richard knew that it meant something.  Whatever that might be, it wasn't anything he wished to investigate.Which was…  peculiar, to say the very least.But the point was, they could have been anywhere else.





	These Funny Things We Cannot Explain

**Author's Note:**

> Holiday/New years story thing for an exchange on a Discord server I'm a member of, for prismatic-cannon on tumblr (they don't seem to have an account here, as far as I can tell). Nothing holiday-related, just some random stuff that kind of fell together after I absorbed what I could of their prompt! Thanks for giving me a chance to write this, I had a lot of fun.

And the thing is, he can't even blame any of this on Gavin. Might have, in their early days, when they bitched and sniped at each other incessantly, both of them wrong because neither was willing to admit that the other might be _right_. But the statistics had been gathered, the results were in, Gavin did actually sometimes know what he was doing. Most of the time, actually, and if Richard happened to be in a good enough mood, he wasn't even adverse to letting his partner know where he stood.

That it happened more and more often, of late, well, Richard knew that it meant something. Whatever that might be, it wasn't anything he wished to investigate.

Which was… peculiar, to say the very least.

But the point was, they could have been anywhere else.

They're here because they'd _agreed_ they were on the right track, that this was where their missing Red Ice dealers were hiding out: a run-down set of apartments in a run-down, tired part of the city. Some of those apartments were no better than gutted out hovels, and all of it absolutely _filthy_. Gavin had laughed about what a finicky pain in the ass Richard was being, more concerned with getting his fancy shoes dirty than he was in hunting down their perps, to which Richard had cheerfully told him to fuck right off.

That's when the first shots had been fired, and they first sought cover. A quick scan revealed it was just two humans, and Richard thought it a waste of resources to call for backup, the matter was well in hand. So, he split his processors between firing off shots of his own, and telling Gavin when and where to move, whenever bullets tore through the deteriorating wall that hid him from view.

There's a lull in activity and Richard ducks out of cover, fires a few shots off, though none of them find their right target, and instead a hail of bullets are fired back at him. He falls back, and Gavin takes his turn, just as quickly falling back behind cover and checking his pistol. That doesn't stop the assault from the other side of the room, as gunshots continue to fire out. For two mere humans, random Red Ice dealers, at that, they seem to pack an alarming amount of firepower – that only indicates this is very likely bigger than it at first appears.

'So, what do you feel like having for lunch?'

'You know I don't actually _eat_.' He checks his own gun, keeping track of their steadily dwindling ammunition.

'Yeah, but after this, you're gonna want _something_. There's this new cafe that Tina says is to die for, and like, it's got all sorts of different fancy teas? And I was thinking, well,' he shrugs, and it's painful how _cute_ it is, why is he so _cute_? ' _Richard likes tea_. You wanna try it out?'

'As long as we neither of us end up dying, certainly. I'll even let you pay for it yourself, I'm in a particularly good mood.'

'God, Richie, what would I do without you?'

They shoot each other a pair of desperately bright looks amidst all the actual shooting. Gavin's smile, Richard decides, is a little too _much_. He's beaming and it's stupid how _infectious_ it is, because Richard beams right back at him.

Still, this whole shootout situation is getting rather tiresome. 'I'm going to leave cover, and – '

His audio processor picks out a soft _tink_ , and his scanner homes in on the source of the noise as it rolls to a stop. He quickly identifies the item as an EMP grenade, which is good for Gavin, but not for him, and he's already initiating his preconstruction ability to figure this out before it's too late, but he's still too _slow_.

The blast knocks through him and he pitches one way, then the other, systems gone haywire as he stumbles out into the open. Gavin shouts his name and Richard nearly blacks out, HUD whiting out in a flash of static, he's staggering to stand. Pressure hits him, dull but _hot_ , and snaps his head to the side, twisting vertigo and a surge of nausea. His left optical unit goes completely offline, the ground rushes up to meet him.

'Fuck!'

He does actually black out, systems stuttering one by one as they begin to come back online after a soft reboot. 'Fuck,' Gavin groans, face red with exertion, eyes wide with fear. 'You're heavier than you look. Fuck, _fuck_ – are you alright?'

He doesn't answer, for a moment, and when he's properly aware of his surroundings once more, he's sitting with his back to Gavin's chest, legs stretched out at an angle in front of him, Gavin's legs to either side. He tilts his head to the side, blinks his one functional eye back at his partner, and runs a quick diagnostic as he absently praises his partner for his quick thinking, unsure of whether it's sarcastic or not. Gavin had dragged him back into a corner, but now that means there's no other place for them to run.

And Richard knows, Gavin shouldn't have had so much trouble moving him, he's quite lightweight, after all. But there are countless malfunctions still occurring, countless error notifications clogging up his HUD, something is very clearly _wrong_.

'I'm fine,' he states, simply, but a quick if indirect scan of Gavin's vitals shows the human is anything _but_. 'Now, if you could simply focus on the task at hand, perhaps we can escape this without either one of us sustaining even more serious damage.' He begins to sit forward, but another wave of vertigo washes over him, and Gavin slaps an arm around his middle, pulling him back.

'Sit the fuck _down_ ,' Gavin snaps.

Richard should tell him off for that, but he bites his tongue. It's a high stress situation already, he probably shouldn't add to it, though the temptation is there, it always is.

Gavin, though, isn't finished. '...and what the fuck do you mean by even more _serious_? You're not… how's any of this _fine_?' Richard would very much like to see Gavin's face, right then – he can almost see the flare of his nostrils, how it would showcase the prominent scar across the bridge of his nose, how the light in his eyes would shine brightly despite the grunge of the hall. 'You're bleeding all over the fucking place, you've been shot in the _eye_!'

'Gavin, please, _calm down_.' He reaches sideways, clutching at Gavin's arm, wanting to sooth him – doesn't need him panicking, no, not when Richard's LED is already burning red, when his working eye is shot through with gray bursts of static, pixelated fragments of rainbow-hued distortion, error warnings that he keeps having to swipe away, only more pop up to replace them. He hates being injured, not that it hurts. But it's a distraction, an interruption, and there's thirium _everywhere_. There's no way he's getting out of this without needing to get his levels refilled, and at the slight chemical aftertaste of it as it trickles out where it shouldn't, it's enough to make him gag. 'This is nothing a small amount of maintenance a certified repair technician won't be able to correct, believe me, I'm _fine_.'

Gavin's heart is still beating erratically, his lips turned down in a frown, and he's still holding onto Richard like he doesn't plan on letting him move, and that, at least, should be a problem. 'You and me, we've got different definitions of fine, _Dick_.'

'Hrm.' He breathes out softly, squeezing Gavin's jacket, knows he ought to draw some sort of line, he keeps letting Gavin off the hook. They sit like that, silently – though Gavin's breathing is terribly loud – until Richard picks up the scuff of a footstep, scans the hallway through the wall. The result is less than optimal, more static, more distortion, more _errors_ , but it's all they have to go on. 'One of our friends is coming to check in on us, how kind of them,' he whispers. 'Perhaps if you shot…' He taps at the wall, with one pointed finger.

Gavin still has that one arm squeezed about his midsection, but he lifts his gun up and aims where Richard's directed to him, and Richard smiles in satisfaction as Gavin sags backwards, as the dealer's body hits the floor.

'Nicely done, Detective,' he says, as he slides his legs in, wary of the quickly expanding pool of blood coming into contact with his shoes.

'Just keep an eye out for the other fucker…' Richard hears the grit of Gavin's teeth. 'Fuck, sorry.'

'You're cursing an awful lot, one might be led to believe you're under some sort of duress.'

'Just shut up, alright, _I'm_ actually fine,' Gavin snaps. 'You called for backup?'

Even if Richard couldn't _hear_ his heartbeat, his back is flush against Gavin's front, he can _feel_ it. 'Yes, I have,' he says, doesn't add, he wishes he had sooner. He doesn't actually want to feed into Gavin's worry, not when they both still need to be on high alert, when Richard's injury is all the distraction they can stand. That there are still a number of non-vital systems that have not yet fully come back on line, that there are _malfunctions_ , that he's hardly operating at optimal performance.

'The damage is _minimal_ , Detective. The bullet lodged itself in my ocular unit, and my self-heal protocol has already taken care of the bleeding.'

Only mostly taken care of it, actually. There's still a slow trickle of it bleeding out, sliding down his face, staining through his jacket, his shirt. Thirium stains deeply, so even if he gets them cleaned, there will always be _traces_ left behind, ones that he will see, ones that Connor will see. 'I'm going to have to throw this shirt away. Maybe even the jacket.'

'God, that's a real fucking pain, you love shopping so you're gonna get to buy some new clothes, boo fucking hoo. It's not like something serious happened, like, you've been _shot_ or something.'

Perhaps, afterwards, he'll blame it on the damage he's taken, on the systems that aren't running, on the whole entire situation which is, indeed, stressful. But he twists round quickly, goes from sitting against Gavin's back to kneeling in front of him, grabbing onto his jacket with one hand, pressing a hand to his face with the other. 'You can laugh at me later if you'd like to, I don't actually want you seeing me like this.' And he tilts his head, and presses his mouth to Gavin's, before the human has a chance to respond.

With words, anyhow, because Gavin lets out a groan that is desperate, yet soft. He fists a hand in Richard's thirium-soaked turtleneck, angles his head to push into the kiss, harder, deeper, tongue and tooth and desperation. Richard had honestly only hoped to shut him up, but now that they've started he finds himself unwilling to stop. Gavin's mouth is hot and damp in the best sort of way, and Richard wants more of it, wants to kiss him until he's a writhing, groaning mess.

Only humans have to breathe, and the other dealer is creeping up on them and his breath wheezes in the stale air, so Richard breaks away as Gavin loudly gasps, trying to catch his breath. Richard snatches the gun from his hand, twists round halfway and fires at the final dealer. He hits the floor, draped halfway over his equally dead buddy. Excellent. Optimal performance, this might not be, but Richard is still more than capable of getting the job done.

Three seconds later, as Richard picks up the sound of distant sirens, he sags against Gavin, pressing the gun back into Gavin's hand. 'There, all good. We're saved, and I – ' He doesn't know what it is, perhaps the lost thirium has finally taken a toll on him, or it's one of the constantly reoccurring malfunctions, or, or, he doesn't _know_.

A sizzle of something overwhelming dances across his wires, white hot electric, and then everything goes black. And white. And electric bright, so much he can hardly see. But he does see, the first time they met, the cool disregard in Gavin's eyes as his lips had twisted in a heated sneer. The Captain was insistent, and Richard's new partner was painfully stubborn, and the only reason he agreed to work with the human was (because he had to) because he enjoyed having that sort of challenge. Gavin's face, a hundred other times, laughing or shouting, glancing sideways at him as he shares the latest office gossip, like it was them against the world, or at least them against the rest of their colleagues.

And then, as he belatedly sees his life flashing in front his eyes, he realizes just how much of his existence is tied up in that of Gavin Reed's. And that is kind of… disarming. Alarming. Distasteful, in a way, but not nearly as terrible as it could be.

And none of that… well, it can't be good.

He certainly hadn't _asked_ for it.

Only he had, hadn't he, in his own specific way.

–  
–

As his systems finish coming online, Richard jolts awake with an unneeded gasp. Blue-tinted fluorescents give the room a strange, otherworldly quality. He checks to make sure his ocular processors are functioning at full capacity, finds that they are. Newly replaced, as well.

The repair tech's voice is cheery as they begin to go over Richard's repairs, but he's aware of all that already, he's read the diagnostic. Richard swipes away the memory file, grimacing. 'May I leave?' he asks, cutting the tech off, who chuckles, then nods, their LED flashing yellow, then blue.

'Maybe you might want to get dressed first, but yeah, you're free to go. Oh, and your thirium still needs to be topped off, you should do something about that as soon as you can.'

Richard sneers, though it's neutral enough, why couldn't they have thought of that while they were doing repairs? He doesn't actually want to start anything with this android, though, he _wants_ – 

What he wants is to hunt Gavin down, he's good at that, isn't he? Set a task, and Richard will see it done. Even if, now, it's because he's – a little off kilter, because he doesn't know what to expect, what he _wants_ to expect. Would Gavin had stayed? Richard hopes not. Being shot means paperwork, and if Gavin sat around waiting for repairs, then that paperwork might still have to be filed. Even if Richard would do it faster, it still helped that Gavin _do_ things, sometimes.

That was all that he wanted, right?

Perhaps it was a lingering malfunction, something the repair tech had missed, the rush of heat that swept over his wires, as Richard shakes his head. That _wasn't_ what he wanted, but what _was_?

A memory plays, unbidden, Richard seeing Gavin before they had even met, his digitized face looking back at him from its location on the datapad. Scanning through his personnel files, making note of his accomplishments versus his demerits. There were plenty of the latter, of course, but the former… it definitely had attracted Richard's attention. Working with a detective with issues of his own, certainly that would increase the challenge rating of his own job.

He looks up, and the Captain gives him a grim look. ‘You sure this is what you want? Reed's a handful, but you didn't hear that from me.'

Perhaps it's a bad idea, but Richard is only newly deviant, and Gavin, Gavin, _Gavin_ , the file distorts with static, unreadable, unmoving, his HUD taken up with a display of Gavin's face, the digitized photo. This is what he _wants_.

–  
–

_Richard, are you alright?_

He's already in the process of constructing a message to send to Gavin as he receives one from Connor. _I'm fine, yes. Going to my apartment to change out of these ruined clothes. I'll contact you again as soon as I deem it necessary._ He's giving Connor the cold shoulder, as it's put, and he doesn't completely understand why. Despite their animosity in the past, or, his animosity towards Connor, who is too cheerful and enthusiastic by far, he does enjoy communicating with and even working with his predecessor.

To Gavin, he says, _I don't suppose you've left work for the day?_

He'd lost hours, between being shot, and waking up. Lost a little of himself, almost, and he wants to see Gavin. Just – to show them that there's no permanent damage, that everything is alright. There's no deeper meaning, some hidden reasoning behind it all.

Richard is showing concern for his partner, who's only shown concern for _him_.

And Richard had kissed him, and Gavin had kissed him in return. It… that was nothing. Heat of the moment, and now he's making excuses, more heat crossing his wires. It's not inexplicable, that's the worst of it.

Gavin still hasn't replied, but he might have his phone on silent. He might not actually care. Richard messages him again, with a, _I'm going to my apartment first, but then I plan on visiting you. You'd best be decent when I arrive, I've gone through enough trauma today already._

–  
–

He's dressed in a new set of clothing, though he dreads the thought of actually having to bin the ruined items. He looks nice again, though, he's back to himself – perfectly poised, icy as fuck, Gavin would perhaps put it like that – and he's made his way to Gavin's apartment, though not without first messaging Tina to verify the name of a certain cafe that Gavin had shown some interest in.

Fifteen minutes later, with two styrofoam cups and a bag of takeaway food – an assortment of muffins, what Richard knows to be Gavin's favorite flavors – he knocks on the door in lieu of ringing to buzzer.

He hears the footsteps, a beep and then three locks being undone. Gavin opens the door, and scowls at him, as Richard lifts the bag of takeaway in one hand, the carrier with its two drinks in it in the other. 'Peace offering?'

Gavin sneers but there's no heat to it, and pulls the door open further, so Richard can slip inside. 'You're alright.' It's not a question.

'I told you already, the damage was minimal.' He goes further into Gavin's chaotically organized living room, and heads for the table between it and the kitchen that signifies the dining room, as Gavin closes the door and quietly pads after him. 'I brought muffins?'

'Yeah, thanks.'

Richard plucks the drinks out of their holders, hands Gavin his and keeps his own. Gavin sets the cup down with a grunt, then pulls the container out of the bed. 'Ooh, chocolate chip,' he mutters, grabbing one and then – just – stopping. He turns, and looks at Richard, all up and down. There's a soft flush of heat on his already tinted cheeks, and he's got his bottom lip sucked back into his mouth.

'You sure you're alright?'

'I'm fine,' he says, and he stares back at Gavin. At the shirt that's a little too tight, the sleeves a little too short. Richard doesn't even wanted to get started on the short cut of those _shorts_ , how the edges are just slightly cutting into the meat of Gavin's thighs. 'Though I thought I told you to dress decently?'

'Ha.' Gavin huffs. 'My apartment, my rules. Now sit down, all that standing's making me uncomfortable.' Plenty of what had happened that day has made him uncomfortable, and Richard… well, he still doesn't understand it, why he wants to lessen it however he can. 'Oh yeah, I finished all the paperwork. So if you're worried about that, just stop.'

Richard sets his cup down, then shrugs out of his jacket. Walks back to the door to hang it up, then crosses back over to where Gavin is waiting, rolling his eyes as he bites into a muffin, sending bits flying. Richard rolls his eyes in return, and then sits down. 

'I've seen tidier crime scenes.'

'Yeah, fuck you too.' He pops another bite of muffin in his mouth, then goes to wash it down with a long drink of coffee. He does at least grab a napkin after all that, and Richard shakes his head, sips his tea. Raspberry, perfect. Gavin breathes out, raggedly. 'That really fucked with me, you know? Seeing you like that.'

'It wasn't that bad, Gavin,' and honestly, it wasn't, 'I've seen pictures of the damaged area from before the biocomponent was repaired, I'm sure you watch gorier horror movies than that.' In fact, he knows he has – they've watched some of them together. They don't actually dislike each other actively, anymore. This isn't the first time he's been inside Gavin's home.

'Yeah, who the fuck cares?' Gavin's stress levels skyrocket, and he drops the muffin he'd been about to bite into, shoves his chair back, stands. 'You act like you're immortal, but you're not. You got shot in the fucking _head_ , Dick! That's one of your vital areas, unless you'd somehow _forgotten_ – '

Richard stands, as well, hands balling into fists. 'How could I possibly _forget_ – '

'And no, you didn't get shot in your brain box. Cause then you'd actually be dead! I'd have had to watch you fucking die! And I – I don't.' He sags backwards, the fire gone from him as he crumbles down into his seat. Folds in on himself, a hand to his head as he shudders all over. 'Fuck,' he groans. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, this is just. It's too fucking much.'

'Please don't cry,' Richard murmurs, approaching him. He's not sure he can take that, he's not sure Gavin's even capable of tears. Gavin, though, makes a choking sound as he tilts his head back, letting out a bitterly tinted laugh.

'God, I'm not gonna fucking cry. You… fuck. Fuck you. I'm sorry? For ignoring your messages, I guess. This is just… I'm a piece of shit, you know I'm a piece of shit.' Argumentative, and stubborn, but, apparently his – and now, Richard's standing right in front of Gavin, and the human groans once more, hot and low, slides an arm around him as he presses the side of his face into Richard's stomach plating. Like that, Richard can feel the buzz of his pulse, the warm thump-thump of his heart. And Gavin can hear his thirium pump beating, as well.

He sets a hand down, carefully, yet firmly, atop his head. His fingers curl into Gavin's hair, tugging gently, absently, yet with its own sort of rhythm.

'I really am a piece of shit,' he mutters.

'Like I didn't already know?' But that doesn't stop him from continuing to stroke his fingers through Gavin's hair – he'd showered recently, it's extra soft. 'I suppose that makes you my piece of shit.'

Gavin shudders, hard, tightens his grip about him. Really laughs, as he squeezes Richard tightly. Like he's getting what Richard is saying, even though Richard's not too sure if he's saying the right things. 'God, you have awful fucking taste in men.'

'Yeah,' Richard replies, weighing his words very cautiously, 'I do.'

A few minutes later – he doesn't keep exact tract of the time – Gavin pulls away, rubbing a hand across his still blushing face. Richard steps back, which gives him the room he needs to stand up, as well, notes how there's hot splotches of color down his neck, as well.

Gavin turns away from him, hands curled into loose fists. 'Why did you kiss me?' It's softly asked, and he's not actually looking at Richard, which is… extra vulnerable. Soft. Not Gavin at all. It's adorable, actually – why is everything about this frustrating man so terrible _cute_?

Richard shrugs, uncertain. He's never felt so untethered, he's in a free fall. 'At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do.'

Gavin's face scrunches up as he bites back a fresh round of laughter. 'You fucking asshole,' he groans, but then he stares at Richard, hard, makes up his mind. Throws himself forward, but Richard catches him, easily. Lifts him up off his feet, as Richard holds Gavin to him, as they kiss – hotter, and messier, far more desperate than the first had been, some how. It doesn't actually hit him, until that exact moment – how he can't stop thinking about Gavin, wanting to see Gavin, please him when really he only wants to make it more difficult, and it's nothing like who he is, he doesn't know what to _do_.

He kind of hates it, honestly. But also, he does not?

He sets Gavin back down on his feet, and Gavin loops an arm about his neck, a little awkwardly. 'This is probably a really bad idea,' Gavin's says, not that it stops Richard from kissing him once more. It's not even the first.

**Author's Note:**

> *s c r e a m s*
> 
>  
> 
> That's all, folks


End file.
